


Better

by stopmysinfulhand



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Night Terrors, No angst here, Reader Insert, i’m soft and love malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 04:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: “Wanna talk about it?”You felt Malcolm shrug beneath you. “Just the usual stuff,” he said. “Y’know, my dad telling me I can't leave. Girl in a box. General guilt and insecurity manifesting as subconscious terrors that plague me during my sleeping hours.”In which you help Malcolm wake up, and then go back to sleep.





	Better

**Author's Note:**

> it’s real love malcolm bright hours

Malcolm was having night terrors again. He said your presence helped, kept the worst dreams at bay, but even you couldn’t stop the nightly attacks on his subconscious caused by his renewed relationship with his father. The most you could do was coax him into a more restful sleep and make sure he didn’t run out the window again. Or run into the street. Or fall down the stairs. 

Tonight’s was especially bad. He thrashed and tugged on his restraints, really getting his money’s worth out of his bite guard. You had to dodge his hands in order not to get hit. You debated how best to get him up this time. Sometimes sitting on him worked, but sometimes restraining him made it worse; and it often got worse before it got better. 

You waited for his thrashing to ebb and gently stroked his hair back from his sweat-slick forehead. “Malcolm, honey, wake up,” you stated firmly. His thrashing calmed further. “Come back to me, baby. It’s okay.” You stroked his scratchy cheeks. “I’m right here. Wake up.”

His eyes opened and he bolted upright, nearly knocking you off the bed as he let out a scream. 

“Malcolm,” you said, turning his face to you. “It’s okay.”

“(Y/N)?” His voice was raw and scratchy; his breath came out in pants. “Wha—What are you—“ You took his hand and rubbed his knuckles with your thumb. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders loosening. “Night terrors again,” he said.

“Night terrors again,” you agreed. “Want me to make you some tea?” 

He shook his head and thumped back into a lying position. Malcolm held his arms open. 

You grinned and settled against him, your arm tucking under his slim waist. You rubbed soothing circles into his chest and looked up at him. “Is this better?” you asked.

“Much,” he sighed. His chains jingled as he wrapped his arms around you. You didn’t mind; you were just glad he could recover so quickly this time. Maybe your presence really did help?

You let a beat of easy silence pass before you spoke again. By then, Malcolm’s heart rate had slowed and his breathing was even. “Wanna talk about it?”

You felt Malcolm shrug beneath you. “Just the usual stuff,” he said. “Y’know, my dad telling me I can't leave. Girl in a box. General guilt and insecurity manifesting as subconscious terrors that plague me during my sleeping hours.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Despite the heavy subjects Malcolm talked about, his tone was one someone might use to talk about the weather or a novel they read in high school; utter nonchalance and passivity. 

You stretched up and kissed his cheek. Malcolm gave you a soft smile in return. “What was that for?” he asked.

“Cause I like you,” you said simply. “See look, I’ll do it again.” You stretched up to place another kiss on his cheek, and were met with his lips instead. You grinned. “What was that for?” you echoed. 

“Cause I like you,” repeated Malcolm. 

You poked him in the side, getting a very indignant “Hey!” in response. “Go back to bed, silly boy,” you said. 

“You’ll stay here, won’t you?” Malcolm’s voice had a pleading neediness to it. 

This time you kissed him on purpose. “You know that I will,” you said softly. “I always do.” 


End file.
